The Outlaw El Zorro
by IcyWaters
Summary: Don Alejandro stopped Diego from accepting amnesty. Now what? Companion piece to "The Clumsiest Swordsman in California." Takes place after episode 52 of the Disney series, "Amnesty for Zorro."


Summary: Don Alejandro stopped Diego from accepting amnesty. Now what? Companion piece to "The Clumsiest Swordsman in California." Takes place after episode 52, "Amnesty for Zorro."

Author's Note: Special thanks to Ida Mirei for her continued encouragement. :-)

* * *

**The Outlaw El Zorro**

by

IcyWaters

"After him!" shouted Sergeant Garcia, leading a group of soldiers in pursuit of the outlaw Zorro.

The masked bandit grinned. The sergeant assembled the lancers much faster this time. He spurred Phantom into a gallop and rode south for several miles, leading the chase toward Puerta del Diablo. The gentle rolling hills and soft brush gave way to rougher terrain as they neared the mountain. Slipping behind a pile of boulders to lose their pursuers, the horse and rider changed course.

Those few short minutes seemed like hours to the masked rider. Staying off the main roads, Zorro steered Phantom back to the abandoned well where he left Anna Maria Verdugo. He chastised himself for leaving her there alone, but he didn't have much choice. Even on the magnificent white stallion, they would never have been able to outrun the soldiers doubled up. Besides, considering the conditions under which they parted, it would have been rather awkward to remain together.

Zorro arrived just in time to see Corporal Reyes escorting Anna Maria back to Monterey. A pang of regret clutched his heart as he watched her getting smaller in the distance. He wanted to scoop the señorita up in his arms and tell her how much he loved her, to beg her forgiveness for choosing a life as an outlaw over a life with her.

But there was no going back. The Hour of the Angelus passed; the offer of amnesty had been rescinded. He made his decision; or rather, his decision was made for him.

There was no time to dwell on that thought. The sounds of hoof beats startled Zorro from his musings. He patted Phantom's neck to keep the animal calm while he determined what direction the new visitors were approaching from. There were at least half a dozen horses and they were coming from the south.

He maneuvered the stallion behind some thick shrubs and caught a glimpse of blue and red. Yes, the sergeant was definitely improving. But why did he have to choose such an inopportune time?

Once again, Zorro spurred Phantom into a gallop.

"There he is!" Sergeant Garcia shouted, "After him!"

The masked bandit headed southeast and into the foothills of the Santa Lucia Mountains, finding comfort in the familiarity of the chase. The salty air of sea-side Monterey was replaced with a cool, crisp breeze tinged with the scent of pine. He raced across the valley and weaved between the boulders at the base of the mountains, enjoying the warm rays of sun on his back.

As the sounds of the men behind him began to fade, he slowed his pace. When the familiar uniforms of the King's Lancers came into view again, he waved to the regiment and picked up speed. Spotting the figure in black appeared to have reinvigorated the sergeant and he did his best to keep up with the outlaw, no doubt with the two thousand peso reward at the forefront of his mind.

Encouraging Phantom into higher terrain, Zorro made sure the lancers did not lose him among the large trunks of the majestic redwood, pine and fir trees. He maneuvered the white stallion to a clearing above. Once on the raised ground, he had a view of the land below and waited for the soldiers to catch up.

"He is gone like the wind," Garcia sighed, his rich baritone voice carrying upward. "Let's go home."

"Are you sure about that, Sergeant?" Zorro called out. Despite the distance between them, the masked bandit could easily visualize the sergeant's eyes widening in surprise.

"He is up there," Garcia yelled, pointing to the figure in black. "After him!"

Zorro shook his head and chuckled. That seemed to be the only phrase the sergeant knew today. He continued leading them on a chase through the woods at the base of the mountains, until the soldiers finally gave up and started back to the presidio.

As the sun began dipping lower in the horizon, creating long shadows in the foothills, the masked bandit suddenly realized how much time had passed and how far he journeyed. He was not far from Soledad. Despite the uncertainty he felt, he couldn't help but laugh. What better place to end up at today than the town named for loneliness and solitude?

For the first time that day, he was truly alone with his thoughts.

What astonished him the most was that it was not Anna Maria that first floated into his mind, it was his father. His father _knew_ he was Zorro. And from what the elder de la Vega said, he had known for quite some time. The outlaw struggled to comprehend this.

How could he know? Why didn't he say anything? For a brief moment, the bandit felt betrayed. He snickered at the irony. Was this how Alejandro felt at being kept in the dark regarding his son's life?

Turning Phantom around and heading back to the pueblo, he was struck with a pang of fear. There was a small part of him that was afraid to go back, afraid to face his father. He toyed with the idea of turning south and continuing on to Los Angeles. Perhaps he would wake up in his bed and find this was all a terrible nightmare.

The masked man shook his head. So this was the legendary outlaw el Zorro, eh? Afraid to face the formidable Don Alejandro de la Vega… He sighed in defeat.

There was one thing he knew for certain; he needed to talk to his father.

* * *

Hours later, aided by the glow of the partial moon, Zorro carefully made his way to the outskirts of Monterey. He couldn't resist stopping by the Verdugo hacienda. Lurking in the shadows, he observed Anna Maria leaning on the balcony's handrail, gazing at the stars above.

She was as beautiful as ever. Even the muted luminosity of the night sky could not conceal her delicate features. Those features were unexpectedly calm, almost wistfully reflective.

He could have stepped out of the darkness and gone to her. All he would have to do was take off his mask and explain everything. She might be angry at first, but that would subside in time. Then she and Diego could marry, Zorro could continue his crusade and no one would be the wiser.

But deep down, he knew it could never happen. She was in love with a myth, not a flesh and blood man. Anna Maria Verdugo did not love Diego de la Vega.

As the realization sank in, the anguish he expected to feel was mysteriously absent. Instead of pain, there was only sorrow. He did not mourn the loss of a love he never had, he silently grieved for the life – the family – that slipped away. He was Zorro the fox, but would he ever be Diego the husband and father?

Directing one last longing glance toward the balcony, Zorro departed and tentatively rode to the abandoned workshop on the northern edge of the plaza that served as the fox's lair in Monterey. He looked cautiously around to make sure there were no unwanted observers, dismounted Phantom and led the horse through the entrance.

"Diego, I was worried about you," Alejandro said with a slight hesitation to his voice.

Diego turned to his father, unaccustomed to having someone verbally greet him upon returning. It was even stranger having his father call him by his name while wearing the mask. This was definitely going to take some getting used to.

"I needed to clear my thoughts," Diego explained, not intending to sound so terse. He took off his hat, untied his mask and slipped out of his cape.

Bernardo appeared out of the shadows, an expression on his face that left no doubt he would rather be anywhere else at the moment, and moved to take care of Phantom. The mute guided the stallion out the back doors to the covered stall outside, leaving the de la Vega men standing in the middle of the dimly lit room, an uncomfortable silence descending between them.

"I am sorry, my son," Alejandro began. "You have every right to be angry with me."

Diego closed his eyes and swallowed hard. "I'm not angry, Father," he finally said softly. His posture easing, he lifted his head and nearly smirked at Alejandro's disbelieving gaze. "When the Angelus bell rang for the last time, I thought any chance I had of living a normal life faded with it."

"And I am directly responsible for that," Alejandro admitted with a tinge of guilt evident in his voice.

"No, you're not," Diego stated firmly. "You were right. Accepting the governor's offer of amnesty would have been the biggest mistake of my life."

"Why didn't you tell Anna Maria who you were in private?" Alejandro questioned cautiously. "There was no need for a public unmasking to win her hand."

Diego removed the sword from his belt. He held the sheathed weapon in his hands, intensely studying the scabbard's detail in the warm flickering light of a nearby lantern, wanting to avoid the one question that stabbed at his heart. Taking a deep breath, he walked over to the workbench and set the blade down. He stepped back and slumped against the wall, sliding to the floor.

"I think deep down, I knew all along that Anna Maria never really loved me." Diego rested his head on the wall behind him and removed his gloves. "She was infatuated with a legend. It didn't matter who was beneath the mask, he never stood a chance of living up to her expectations."

"What if she could love you?"

"It doesn't matter," Diego replied leaning forward, propping crossed arms on bent knees. "I want more than the possibility that she could come to love me some day. I want the kind of love you and Mother had," he added softly. He turned serious eyes to the other man. "Even if I could settle for less, amnesty would still have been a mistake. You knew that all along. It's why you stopped me."

Alejandro turned away from his son's intense gaze. He picked up a nearby stool and positioned it a few feet away from Diego. "Yes, I realized how dangerous it would be for you," he confessed while sitting down. "Zorro's enemies would know where to find him. You would always be a target. When the day comes that you marry and have children, your family would never be free of the shadow of danger."

"Not to mention all of the young swordsmen who would want to test their skills against the outlaw," Diego added with a small smile. "I might develop a real distaste for the blade."

"That, too," Alejandro agreed wryly, sharing the smile.

"I…I wasn't thinking clearly," Diego faltered, struggling to acknowledge his weakness. His shoulders slumped forward. "It was fun teasing Ricardo about Zorro marrying Anna Maria, but I wasn't planning on going through with it. I knew it would be wrong. Then I visited her and she was so hopeful and so certain…" he trailed off. "I knew it was wrong, but I didn't want to disappoint her," he divulged, his voice barely above a whisper.

"There is no shame in that, Diego," Alejandro reassured him. "Our hearts have a way of affecting our minds that we do not always understand or appreciate; but when the right woman enters your life, you will never regret acting with your heart first."

Diego lowered his head, briefly wondering if that day would ever come for him. "Or perhaps I am just a coward after all," he whispered, "wanting to take the easy way out." He looked up at his father. "By unmasking publicly, Anna Maria would be thrust into a position where it would be difficult to say no."

"You are not a coward." The older de la Vega's features turned somber and he met his son's eyes. "I am sorry, Diego. Words cannot express how regretful I am for all of the harsh things I said to you."

"You do not have to apologize, Father. If I could not convince you that I was an idle poet, how could I ever expect to convince anyone else? I needed you to be disappointed in me, to be angry with my apathy. You were instrumental in Zorro succeeding." Diego leaned back against the wall.

"Yes, I do need to apologize to you, my son." Alejandro choked back tears. "What if you really were just a scholar and a poet? I still had no right to call you a coward. Every man must make his own decisions in life, and I should have respected yours even if I didn't necessarily understand them."

Diego nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat, not trusting his voice to speak. Regaining control of his emotions, he finally responded. "I hold no ill will toward you, Father, and I never have."

Alejandro visibly relaxed at this, his eyes misty with tears, and his expression turned lighter. "Earlier you mentioned that you thought you would never live a normal life. Do you still believe that?"

A sly grin formed on Diego's lips. "No. I recognize now, more than ever, that the fox is a part of my life that I'm not prepared to let go of anytime soon. When Sergeant Garcia was chasing me in the hills this afternoon, it dawned on me that I need the mask. I need to be Zorro. This is my normal life."

"I don't know whether to be delighted or scared of that notion," Alejandro chuckled.

"Well, I would prefer you be delighted," Diego said with amusement. "After all, you are now one of the fox's accomplices. Because of your actions, he is still an outlaw."

"I didn't think of it that way," Alejandro chuckled. "Since I am now one your co-conspirators, will you answer me the one question that has gnawed at me all this time?"

"I will try," Diego replied intrigued.

"How in Heaven's name did you ever come up with the idea for this masquerade?"

Diego couldn't help but laugh at his father's incredulous expression. "I believe you have Mother to thank for that." When his father's eyes widened in surprise, he continued. "Do you remember the stories she used to recite to me at bedtime? Her favorite was a tale about a prince who arrived home to find some of his father's advisors were conspiring against the people of the kingdom."

"Sí, I vaguely remember it," Alejandro recalled. "The prince decided to play the part of a timid and meek student…" he trailed off, shaking his head, "while he secretly worked to protect his father's throne."

"There was one particular line that struck a chord with me," Diego's eyes sparkled with mischief. "If you cannot clothe yourself in the skin of a lion…"

"Put on that of a fox," Alejandro finished. "I should have known," he lifted his hands up in defeat. "It's only natural that you would get this taste for deception from the de la Cruz blood that runs in your veins." His hands dropped back to his lap.

"And what of my taste for adventure?" Diego inquired roguishly.

"That you got from the de la Vegas," Alejandro stated proudly, "along with your skill with the blade."

"I knew you would say that," Diego laughed, enjoying the conversation with his father. He missed the way they used to confide in one another. For the first time since he returned from Spain, he felt relieved that he no longer had to deceive the person he loved most.

Alejandro's eyes narrowed. "I could not tell you much in my letters, in fear that Monastario would snatch them, so when exactly did you decide on this subterfuge? You could not have dreamt this up on the spot once you arrived. Your luggage was entirely made up of clothes and books!"

"When you requested that I leave my studies early and return to Los Angeles immediately, I didn't know what to make of the mystery," Diego admitted. "During the voyage back, the capitán of the ship and I would engage in friendly bouts of swordsmanship to pass the time. As we neared port, he told me of the military rule in Los Angeles and mentioned my skills would come in handy. It was then that I decided to take a more indirect approach."

"Why did you not tell me, Diego?"

His father's distressed tone sent pangs of guilt flowing through his body. "I wanted to protect you," he said softly. "As long as you didn't know, it would be easier to convince the authorities that you had nothing to do with my actions should I be captured or killed. I had Bernardo throw my fencing medals overboard and purchased several trunks worth of books in Monterey. The pacifist Diego was born."

"That is the most ridiculous thing you have said in a long time," Alejandro chided.

Diego arched an eyebrow at the comment. "And why is that?"

"You know very well Monastario would have jumped at the opportunity to hang me right beside you, had he ever managed to capture Zorro," Alejandro explained. "No amount of shock or disbelief on my part would have convinced him to let me go free."

"That's why it was so important that you publicly scold me and show the pueblo that I was a great disappointment to the de la Vega name," Diego reasoned. "It was more than convincing Monastario, although that was instrumental to throwing him off my scent, but it was persuading the governor, the viceroy and the other dons of your innocence. They are the people who would not stand by while one of the most respected men in California was accused of treasonous crimes. They would fight for you and defend your honor."

"You do not give me much credit, do you, Diego?"

"I don't understand, Father."

"Do you really believe that had Monastario managed to capture Zorro and let me go free, that I would stand idly by and watch that bastard hang my son? I would fight him to the death."

His eyes moist with tears, Diego turned away from Alejandro. He swallowed hard, trying to force away the lump forming in his throat. All this time, he had betrayed his father's trust and pushed him away, under the feeble excuse of protecting him. Never once did he genuinely consider the ramifications of his actions on his father. What would have happened had he been caught or killed?

Diego felt like an utter fool; an inconsiderate jackass.

For all the cunning of the fox, he had never acted more stupidly.

It was all a game to him. Playing tricks on the lancers, challenging Monastario, saving California from the Eagle…it had all been fun. The mask of Zorro allowed Diego to be who he really was. Of course, he and Bernardo discussed what to do if the worst should happen, but he never honestly believed that Zorro would ever fail. Even his mute friend began to fall under the spell that the fox was infallible.

But it wasn't a game. What would have happened to Alejandro had the fox been killed?

It still sent shivers up his spine knowing how close he came to having his neck in a noose. Monastario had him. By all accounts, he should be hanging from the end of a rope. But the capitán was too smug, too confident…Traits Diego reluctantly acknowledged were mirrored in Zorro. Enrique Monastario's greatest downfall was not the fox, but his own ego. Would the same be said for Zorro one day?

It wouldn't matter that Bernardo could explain the truth. The older don would never have been able to confront his son and get the answers the mute was unable to provide. Answers he deserved to hear from Diego. Alejandro would bury his only child and spend the rest of his living days alone, wrongly blaming himself for his son's death.

"I'm…I'm sorry," Diego choked out, keeping his head down.

"For what?" Alejandro prodded. "Wanting to protect me? I don't begrudge you for that. It's only natural for a son to want to protect his father."

"It's not that I didn't trust you," Diego said softly. "I…I didn't want you to lose everything that you and Grandfather had worked so hard for. By keeping you in the dark, it was my misguided way of preventing that from happening. I was wrong to do so."

Alejandro stood and took a few steps toward the wall Diego was slumped against. He knelt down and sat next to his son. "Have I failed you that much as a father?" he asked with sorrow.

"I don't understand," Diego responded, raising his head. "You have never failed me. If anything, it's the other way around."

"Yet you believe a hacienda and a rancho are worth more to me than my child," Alejandro added softly. "I could always build another house and farm new land, but I could never replace you."

Diego sat there speechless, words failing to materialize. Alejandro reached out and wrapped his arm around his son's shoulders, drawing him closer. Diego choked back tears, recalling the last time his father held him in a strong embrace. He was twelve-years-old and his mother had just passed away.

"My intentions were good," he finally managed to say, gradually pulling away.

"But your approach left something to be desired?" Alejandro finished with a smile.

"I suppose you could put it that way," Diego conceded with a shrug.

Alejandro patted his son on the back before drawing his arm away. "I wish I could say you got that from your mother's side, but that's a de la Vega trait," he admitted with a wink.

Diego crooked his head and looked his father in the eyes. A small smile formed on his lips. "You knew that night," he said, "that night we had dinner with Don Estevan and Constancia de la Callas."

"Sí," Alejandro responded with obvious pride. "It was as if I found the last piece of the puzzle. All of the suspicions I had since your return suddenly made sense. I was ready to corner you and make you admit it to me, but then I decided that you are not the only de la Vega who can keep a secret."

Diego propped his crossed arms on his knees again and leaned forward, resting his head on his forearms. He laughed, his shoulders rising and falling with the amusement. He rolled his head to the side and met his father's eyes. "We are quite a family, aren't we?"

"Sí, it's a miracle that I put up with your antics," Alejandro teased.

Diego straightened his back and leaned against the wall. "What made you suspicious?"

"The more accurate question is what didn't make me suspicious," Alejandro clarified. At his son's confused gaze, he continued. "Remember that little stunt you pulled just before you left for Spain?"

"Which one?" Diego grinned.

"You had Sergeant Garcia terrified to ride out to our hacienda," Alejandro exclaimed. "Somehow, he got the crazy notion there was a ghost of a dead Indian haunting our home who despised the King's Lancers. He didn't step foot inside the gate for nearly two years!"

Diego's cheeks blushed and he bit his lower lip.

"And remember the year before that, when you tricked Commandante Linares into leaping into the La Brea tar pits? He wanted to toss you in jail for a week, but I talked him out of it," Alejandro shook his head. "Perhaps I should have let him lock you up for awhile to teach you a lesson."

"You know, that trick came in handy with Monastario," Diego added in his defense.

"So I gather," Alejandro replied, trying to hide his amusement. "The point I am making is that Zorro was far more like the son I sent to Spain than the man who returned claiming to be him. I should be insulted that you thought you could keep it from me for so long."

"In my defense, Sergeant Garcia has forgiven me," Diego noted.

"For the life of me, I do not understand why," Alejandro said, rolling his eyes. "I doubt he'd have the heart to turn you in should he ever capture Zorro, but I wouldn't blame him if he did."

Diego raised his eyebrows and tried to look offended, but ended up laughing. "I suppose I should be grateful that everyone else in the pueblo has conveniently forgotten about my past indiscretions."

"They were probably relieved when I shipped you off to Spain," Alejandro joked.

Diego couldn't argue with that. The jovial mood faded and his features became more somber. "I always thought that if there was a specific moment that you figured it out, it was when…it was when you and the other dons raided the cuartel to free the Torres women and Monastario…"

"Shot me?" Alejandro finished when his son trailed off. "It was the first time I truly began to believe you were the fox. There was no denying that Zorro's eyes, voice and build were eerily similar to yours. And I could swear he called me 'father' when I was slipping into unconsciousness."

"You weren't supposed to hear that," Diego snorted.

"Tell the fox to be more careful in the future," Alejandro playfully chided.

Diego took a deep breath. "When I heard the gunshot and saw the look of glee on Monastario's face, I was ready to kill him out of pure rage," he confessed. "And I probably would have if the lancers hadn't interfered. At that moment, I didn't care what happened."

"Well, it's a good thing you didn't succeed," Alejandro replied.

Diego's eyes widened in shock, "That's not exactly the reaction I expected from you."

"I suppose you are rubbing off on me," Alejandro chuckled. "Had you killed the commandante of the pueblo while the cuartel was under attack, it wouldn't have mattered whether Monastario was guilty of treasonous crimes against the people or not. The army would have spared no expense in hunting Zorro down. And even he would not fare well against those odds."

Diego leaned forward and tugged at his earlobe, once again at a loss for words.

"I should have listened to you," Alejandro stated. "Attacking the cuartel like we did was foolish. If it hadn't been for Zorro, Monastario would have won. I let my rage control my better judgment."

"You have always been willing to sacrifice everything to do what you thought was right," Diego replied softly. "I've always admired you for that."

Alejandro's eyes sparkled and his expression beamed with pride at those words. He nodded his gratitude to his son. "It is I who should be admiring you. What you have accomplished as Zorro is nothing short of extraordinary. For over a year, you have risked you life on a regular basis to protect the people of our pueblo from tyranny, while those same people mock the man you pretend to be. I would never have been able to pull of such a feat. I do not have that kind of strength or courage."

Diego's cheeks blushed for the second time that evening, embarrassed by the candid praise of his father. For all of the relief he now felt at finally being able to confide in his father, he couldn't help but also feel a twinge of guilt that his masquerade caused such a chasm between them. He made a silent vow that he would not allow anything to trigger that chasm to reopen.

As Diego opened his lips to respond, a loud grumbling echoed in the silence of the room. He closed his mouth and looked sheepishly down at his stomach. "But you have a quieter stomach," he quipped.

Alejandro chuckled lightly, before chiming in, "I'm surprised mine's not rumbling, too. I have not eaten since we had breakfast earlier, just before you left to see Anna Maria."

Diego nodded, feeling oddly numb at the mention of her name.

"It might be late, or early depending on how you look at it," Alejandro joked, "but we should be able to scrounge up something to eat." He stood and brushed the dirt from the seat of his trousers. Looking at the tall form of his son standing next to him, he narrowed his brow. "Perhaps you should change first."

Diego looked down at the black clothes of his alter ego and grinned. "You don't like my attire?"

"You always did like black," Alejandro shook his head, "even as a child."

Diego couldn't dispute that fact. He knelt down and picked up his gloves and set them on top of the pile consisting of his cape, mask and hat. "I wonder where Bernardo has disappeared to?" he wondered out loud. "He should have finished with Phantom a while ago."

"You will have to tell me about these magnificent horses of yours," Alejandro remarked. "The black one is named Tornado, is he not?"

"You are quite observant, Father," Diego noted.

"The fox had to learn it from someone," Alejandro joked.

Yes, Diego mused, it felt good having his relationship with his father back on solid ground. He found his suit carefully folded and laying on the countertop on the opposite side of the workshop. As he reached up to begin unbuttoning his shirt, Bernardo peered in from behind the back door.

Diego gestured for him to enter and the mute stepped through the door carrying a large basket. The aromas wafting up from the bundle of food triggered his stomach to start grumbling again. "Is that fresh baked bread I smell?" he asked incredulously. "Where ever did you manage to find it at this hour?"

Bernardo stood there proudly, a large grin plastered on his face.

"You are saint among men, Bernardo," Diego complimented. "I don't know how you pulled it off, but I'm glad you did." He reached over to pull back the cloth covering the top of the basket, only to have his hand swatted away by the manservant.

Bernardo held up an index finger to indicate 'one moment.' Surveying the room, he set the basket down and spread out a blanket on the floor. He then proceeded to set out the contents of the meal.

"As miraculous as Zorro's accomplishments may be, he would never have been successful without the help of his closest friend," Diego announced to his father, waving his hand to indicate his faithful confidant. "Bernardo is a man of many talents, and he continues to surprise me at every turn."

"You are fortunate to have such a trusted companion," Alejandro said, smiling at the manservant.

The mute's cheeks turned pink and he motioned for the two de la Vegas to sit. "Gracias," they said in unison as they plopped to the floor. When he man servant began to leave, Diego stopped him.

"Where are you going?" he declared, pouring the wine into a glass. "Sit down."

Bernardo's eyes widened and he looked cautiously at Alejandro. The older de la Vega nodded for him to join in, so he hesitantly sat down. Diego handed the first glass of wine to his father and poured a second for Bernardo. Searching through the contents of the basket, the younger don pulled out a mug and poured himself a serving of wine.

"To friends," Diego toasted, and the men clanked their glasses together.

"There is something else you should know," Diego began, taking a bite of the bread. He looked to his friend, who signaled his approval before continuing, "Bernardo has his own little secret. He can hear."

"I know," Alejandro said simply. "We were trying to communicate after you left, but it wasn't easy. I'm nowhere near as adept as you in reading Bernardo's signs."

Diego's jaw dropped. "How?"

Alejandro set his glass down and smiled. "When you were in Madrid, you wrote to me about one of the friends you made, a mute with a love for magic."

"Those letters are going to be the death of me one day," Diego laughed. "So you knew from the very beginning that he could hear?"

"No," Alejandro confessed. "I had forgotten the details of the letters. The day after Monastario was arrested, when all of my suspicions started coming together, I read through them again. From then on, I started observing your interactions together. Do you know how foolish I felt when I realized he could hear?"

"It looks like we need to be more careful, Bernardo," Diego said wryly. "My father makes it sound as if it's astonishing we've made it as long as we have."

"Only because I know you too well," Alejandro clarified. "And don't ever forget that."

Bernardo smirked as if saying 'I told you so.'

Diego rolled his eyes, "Now you're on his side?"

The group laughed and continued on eating. When the last pieces were consumed, Alejandro shifted his position and stretched his back. "Now, you must tell me more about Zorro's adventures. I have a feeling a lot went on in the pueblo that I was unaware of, especially concerning the man who called himself the Eagle, Jose Varga. Not to mention what has gone on here in Monterey."

"I would like that very much," Diego replied, mischievous sparks filling his eyes. "Though before I do, there's something I must ask you," he said, voice turning serious, "and I hope you will answer honestly."

His father tilted his head in concern and nodded in agreement.

"It does not bother you that your son is a bandit with a price on his head?"

"Ah, but you are no ordinary bandit," Alejandro replied with a sly grin. "My son is the outlaw el Zorro."

**The End**


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